


You Shall Have Rubies

by mizface



Series: Linnet Bird [3]
Category: Canadian 6 Degrees, Harper's Island
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-24 08:16:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizface/pseuds/mizface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hazelwho inspires me to write the <i>creepiest</i> fic!  The request was: <i>Linnet'verse - Madison reacts to/reflects on her grandpa's murder. We heard it, which is what John wanted, but she saw it. Wonder what the (psychopathic) visual artist in her thinks/thought...</i></p>
<p>Honestly, sometimes writing Madison is downright unnerving, and this was one of those times.  I actually shied away from it once I saw where it was heading, until I really <i>had</i> to get it finished.  Warnings for somewhat graphic descriptions of dead people/things, and Madison's wrongness showing itself full force.</p>
    </blockquote>





	You Shall Have Rubies

**Author's Note:**

> Hazelwho inspires me to write the _creepiest_ fic! The request was: _Linnet'verse - Madison reacts to/reflects on her grandpa's murder. We heard it, which is what John wanted, but she saw it. Wonder what the (psychopathic) visual artist in her thinks/thought..._
> 
> Honestly, sometimes writing Madison is downright unnerving, and this was one of those times. I actually shied away from it once I saw where it was heading, until I really _had_ to get it finished. Warnings for somewhat graphic descriptions of dead people/things, and Madison's wrongness showing itself full force.

John had told her all about this moment. About what she’d see, what she should do. He’d watched her so closely while he gave her the details. He’d been waiting for her to say no, she was sure of it. Waiting for her to be afraid of him, of what he was doing. Or maybe to be angry that he was killing someone in her family. But she’d just sat quietly while he talked, then calmly asked a few questions, wanting more details about exactly what would happen. He’d leaned in close and looked at her again, then nodded, satisfied at whatever he saw, and told her whatever she wanted to know. 

That had been days ago, when they first got to the island. It felt like forever. But now, _finally_ , Madison had witnessed her first death. Well, her first real, watch it happen death. She’d seen dead things before, of course. Animals by the side of the road, pet fish left too long without food or fresh water. And more recently, the raccoon JD had left in the church, the deer head in the tub… but whatever it was that made them alive had already been long gone when she saw them. That was different.

This, this was seeing someone alive, then not. Like flipping a switch. The thought made her want to laugh – flipping a switch is exactly what had killed Thomas Wellington. Lights up, head spade down. Madison widened her eyes, letting out a scream to mask the giggle she couldn’t quite suppress. She had to remember to react the right way. 

Shea grabbed her, turned her head so it was smashed into Shea's side, shielding her from the image of the body, nearly split in two by the head spade. She wanted to struggle, to push Shea away, to turn and look and take it all in until she’d absorbed every detail. Part of her wanted to find a ruler, see exactly how far down the blade had gone before getting stuck in the body. She wanted to see how long the blood kept pumping out, futilely trying to get to organs it could no longer reach. She wished she had a camera, or a sketchbook, something to capture the image before memory changed it.

But again, that wasn’t what she was supposed to do. So instead, Madison contented herself with shifting just enough to look at the floor, still facing away from the body. No one would question that – it was stifling otherwise, and she needed to breathe, didn’t she? This way, she could see the patterns of blood sprayed across the bottom of the nearest pews, dripping down the side to make shallow crimson puddles on the floor. The spatters created intricate patterns, and she wondered if they held any meaning, like tea leaves at the bottom of a cup.

Later, she’d get to talk with John about it all. He’d want to know if there’d been screaming, crying. If the head spade had fallen silently, if there’d been any kind of warning. How Henry had reacted, if he’d played his part. If she’d played hers, and how well. Once she’d answered his questions, she could tell him about what she saw, knowing he’d really _listen_ , and appreciate her eye for detail.

And with that happy thought, she couldn’t wait to leave the church.


End file.
